The Show Must Go On
by Writer by Moonlight
Summary: Gwen Jackson is a struggling comedian who has been moved to London with her fiancé who works for a large marketing company. One night, after being booed off stage, Gwen remembers the Labyrinth that she read as a child and openly wishes the goblins would take her away from this awful nightmare. Unbeknownst to her, the jealous Goblin King has been listening... Takes place in 2014.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters for _The Labyrinth_, nor the movie or anything related. **

**So this is my first shot at a Labyrinth fanfic! Thank you all for reading and please feel free to leave any thoughts, comments, or constructive criticisms in a review! This fanfic is rated T for swearing. This fanfic also includes comedy that makes fun of London, so please let me know in a PM if anything comes across as offensive to you and I will speedily fix my error :) In fact, if any type of humor comes across as offensive, please let me know in a PM!**

* * *

The white hot lights blinded my eyes and cast a devastating shadow upon the people in front of me. Adrenaline soared through my veins and panicked my heart as silence hushed the people.

They were waiting. Anticipation and visions of failure shook my confidence, but didn't shatter it. A sudden reminiscence blossomed in my memory of my mother reading _The Labyrinth _to me before bed when I was just learning to walk. _You have no power over me, _I thought as I gazed at the throng of people. Then, more honestly: _Well, here goes nothing. _

I took a deep breath and plucked the mic from its stand and raised it to my lips.

"Welcome, ladies and gents!" I proclaimed to the crowd. A smile worked its way onto my face as a few people clapped and one boisterous man whistled; my confidence perked up. "It's such an honor to stand on this sweaty stage and use a filthy mic to entertain you all when you could be at home watching a B - rated movie worth half the admission to this place. But, hey, no judgment here. You know how the old phrase goes... you just can't fix stupid."

Laughter rippled across the crowd; I gave a little sigh of relief. I was hoping that joke wouldn't offend anyone too much. I supposed that being able to laugh at yourself was really helping me with that joke. I hoped that attitude would stick around for this show, because there were going to be way more jokes where that one came from.

"Y'know this city of ours, London, is very unique. Now, I know what you're thinking: what the _bloody 'ell _

_(insert purposefully horrible British accent) _

is this lady talking about?" I scrutinized the crowd; they were listening with rising interest. Rule Number One to Stand-Up Comedy: Talk about the hometown/city, and you'll get people's attention. "She's obviously _American, _what the _bloody 'ell _is this _shit?_

_(revert back to plain, American mid-Western accent)_

Well, first of all, calm yourselves ladies and gents, thanks to us, you have the microwave and The Ramones..." I glanced around the crowd. When no one said anything, I smirked. "Yeah, _you're welcome, _you ungrateful little shits."

More laughter and some guffaws. I smirked wider; this was a good crowd.

"So when ya'll microwave yer fish and chips," I began, teasing a southern accent with the '_ya'll_' and '_yer'_, "you think of America. Freedom, bald eagles, obesity, and Starbucks on every street corner."

* * *

Overall, my part of the show was a success. There were more stand-up comedians after me and they certainly got a fair amount of laughs, perhaps more than me for some of them, but I felt that I'd done pretty well. In short, each of us got thirty minutes to do our bit and then the next guy came up.

Nonetheless, I had a handful of people shake my hand after the show, which was a surprising honor. One man, perhaps ten years older than me, was particularly eccentric yet memorable. His two eyes were two different shades of blue and his hair was a shocking and flamboyant blonde, like something of an eighties' pop star. He wore dark skinny jeans, black boots, a red-and-white striped shirt and a black leather jacket with gold-studded shoulders. He had chiseled facial features that would be dishonored with the word _handsome. _He shook my hand and thanked me in a gorgeous British accent for such a great show; it'd been helping him through some tough times, he said. Feeling very elated and inspired, I thanked the man for coming and wished him the best of luck with life. To my surprise, he smiled at me, winked, and walked away.

After the comedy club had cleared, I walked to the front of the building to collect my pay for the night. The rest of the comedians had gone immediately to the manager for their pay, but I took my time changing into more comfortable clothes for the long bus ride home.

The comedy club itself was very old and stunk of mold, resembling one's grandparents' house. The red, velvety wallpaper was peeling and stained with God-knows-what and there were suspicious puddles on the floor (cracked tile stained with God-knows-what) in random places. The hallway leading to the manager's office was decorated with pictures of stand-up comedians who'd come and gone; I guessed they were supposed to be famous but I didn't recognize a single one of them. Not to mention all of the pictures were in black and white.

The door I was seeking was labeled in old-fashioned golden paint: _Dave Cook, Club Manager. _

I pushed open the door, only to be greeted with atrocious cigarette smoke and even more mould. The office was in quite the same state as the rest of the building, except for the wooden desk and old desk lamp sitting on top of it, with papers strewn haphazardly across the tabletop. The illumination from the lamp was the only source of light in the room and there were no windows; I felt like I'd stepped right into a scene from a 1920's gangster movie.

An obese man (_a fat lard of fifty, _I thought with disgust) sat at the desk, clad in a white dress shirt (also stained) and green corduroy pants. He was holding a pencil in his left hand and scribbling on one of the papers. He was muttering something under his breath, his eyes dancing across the page and beads of sweat littering his forehead.

"Excuse me?" I called. The man's head snapped up, making his multiple chins jiggle. A grin spread across his face.

"Ah, 'ello there," he said in a heavy British accent. "'Ow was the show?"

"Just _smah-shing," _I quipped in an imitation of his accent. When his grin faltered, I quickly added in my own accent, "Very successful, sir... I wasn't being sarcastic."

"Oh, good," he said, his grin filling up again. "Come to collect your check?" ('_Cheque,' as they spell it here, _I thought idly).

"Yes, sir," I said, forcing myself to remain polite. Back in Cincinnati, Ohio, I would've said, '_Sure, man_' and it would've been okay. Then again, everybody's nice in Cincinnati, so it's not like I would've been beat up or anything. I couldn't say the same for London, though.

The fat, greasy man nodded. He pulled up a check- _cheque, _I corrected myself - and began scribbling on it. After a few moments, he handed it to me, revealing sweat-stained underarms. I took the cheque and read it...

"This only says seventy-five dollars," I said slowly, glancing up at the man inquisitively.

"Yes, and?"

"There's no way I only made this much. Admission was five dollars and there had to be thirty people there."

"Ah, yes," the man said, still grinning at me. The word _slimey _came to mind. "It was about one hundred-fifty dollars in total, but this club takes fifty-percent of all show earnings. So you got your fair share."

I gawked at the man.

"_Fifty percent? _I did all the work! I entertainedthose people for thirty minutesand all I get is _fifty-percent?!_ What do you need the other half for, anyway? This place smells like something crawled into the rafters about fifty years ago and _died. _Looks like the kind of place Jason would chase teenagers into so he can chop them into little _bite-sized pieces_!"

The grin had slipped off the manager's face right as I had begun ranting. Now his face was purplish-red with fury and he jumped up, surprisingly nimble for a man of such, well, fatness.

"_Ou' of my club! NOW!" _he roared.

With a huff, I turned on my heels and stormed to the door.

"AND DON' YOU EVEN _THINK _ABOU' COMIN' BACK!" the man hollered.

I let the door slam loudly behind me, shaking the weak, wooden door frame. I stormed out of the filthy, mouldy comedy club and began making the two-block walk to the bus stop. I could feel my face burning with anger and furious adrenaline coursing through my veins.

The sky was a deep, demonic black devoid of a single star from the overpowering lights of the wakeful city of London. Bus horns, whooshing of cars, and sirens echoed in the distance, along with someone bellowing British accented-road rage a street over.

_Isn't this place just delightful, _I thought to myself bitterly. _What a great place to raise kids. Welcome to London, it's practically New York City but with red phone booths and people driving on the wrong side of the road. Enjoy your stay, you piece of shit. _

_Beep beep beep, _went my phone. _Beep beep beep. _I pulled it out of my back pocket and saw my fiancé's smiling face flashing on my phone with 'Mark mobile' illuminated. I slid my thumb across the screen, answering the call.

"'Ello, gov'na!" I chirped, despite my bitterness over the crappy check- _dammit, cheque. _"'Ow's it goin', love?"

Mark laughed his sweet laugh on the other line.

"You seem to be in a good mood."

"Actually I'm extremely pissed off right now," I said as I was nearing the end of the block. A loud siren whooped from behind me as the ambulance zoomed down the opposite street. "There's so many freaking noises here. In Cincy, if you shot off fireworks in your neighborhood, people got pissed off 'cause they thought you were shooting a shotgun or something. Here it's like people would freak if there _weren't _shotgun noises, like '_It's quiet... too quiet.'"_

As you can see, I like to rant sarcastically when I'm mad. I think it's a coping mechanism. Y'know, like if I'm stressed out, I'll make fun of myself or the people around me and try to get a few laughs. I've done it since I could talk, which explains why I've pursued stand-up comedy despite being practically unknown for the past two years.

"Wow, babe, that's... um..." Mark trailed off. He sounded tired, and I suddenly felt bad for being so sarcastic. Just a little bit. "Hey, I'm going to be late coming home tonight. You'll be fine on your own?"

"Babe, what am I, five? Of course I'll be fine. It's about ten o'clock now, right? That means the séance will begin at ten-thirty and should last until about eleven, when the ghosts get tired of my shit and finally kill me. Oh, by the way, I purchased a ouija board on eBay yesterday-"

"Gwen!" Mark cut off my rant again. He started laughing, exhaustion dripping with each breath, and finally said, "Knock it off! I'm just trying to say, I'll be home later on. No séances, no being murdered by supernatural entities, nothing. Just sit and make some popcorn, okay?"

The bus stop was within view: a little half-enclosed waiting area with a probably-filthy bench with gum stuck beneath it or cockroaches or a half-eaten lung or something. The area was illuminated with a bright light; practically a sign shouting, "_Hey there, random pedophile/serial killer! I'm sitting here all by myself and totally vulnerable! Got any free candy?_"

"Fine," I grumble. "You're no fun." I smiled and said quietly, "I love you."

"Love you, too."

"Wait, babe, before you hang up, I gotta tell you something... I got ripped off tonight. The asshole club manager took half of the money I made, so I'm only bringing home seventy-five bucks." I waited in silence for his response, feeling the weight of the guilt in my stomach like a twenty-pound rock. Trust me, this isn't the first time I've told him something like this; I'm always getting ripped off. Mark makes most of the money as an advertisement marketer while I try to pursue my dream and always fall flat financially. But, hey, who's having the real fun here: Mark, making deceitful ads and slimey crap, or me, making people laugh and making their days a little bit brighter?

Mark just sighs. He saw this coming.

"I'll see you later." _Click, _call ended. I sigh in return and stick my phone in my back pocket.

_This sucks, _I thought as I approached the bus stop. Even from a few feet away, I could see gum pressed to the bottom of the bench in multitudes. But, alas, no half-eaten lung. That would've at least made my night more interesting.

I took a seat on the bench (it was unsettlingly sticky, I might add) and sighed deeply. Exhaustion was really hitting me now and all I wanted to do was lay my head down on this sticky bench and fall asleep.

Then, suddenly: _ting-ting. _

I jumped in surprise at the sudden sound; it came from the end of the bench. My head twisted to the side and standing there was...

An owl? Yes, an owl; a big, beautiful, barn owl.

"What the hell..." I murmured, gawking.

The owl gawked right back at me with big, brown eyes that matched the brown heart-shape on its face. Its eyes probed mine and ruffled its wings a little.

"Um, hello there," I said uneasily, shifting on the bench. I found my pants sticking to the surface (_Shit, that's gonna stain). _

To my surprise and delight, the owl hooted cheerfully in response.

"How'd you get here, little guy?" I asked it, not actually expecting an answer. The owl just stared at me, almost... lovingly?

_No, that's preposterous. Simply preposterous! _my mind interjected with a posh British accent. It made me smirk for a moment.

A dull roar arose from the back of the street; the bus was coming. I glanced down the street, mindful of the large barn owl about two feet away from me. Indeed, the double-decker bus, the color of dried blood in the dark of night, was chugging slowly towards the bus stop.

"Well, I gotta go, little guy," I said to the owl, my voice slightly higher than normal. (People do that with animals, it's so weird.)

I didn't see a collar or name tag on the owl. _Must be looking for food, maybe people feed him around here, _I thought.

The double-decker bus approached the bus stop and came to a slow, chugging halt. The doors slammed open clumsily to reveal a surprisingly fit man at the driver's seat, clad in a black conductor's hat and a black buttoned-up uniform. He was clean-shaven and seemed good-natured; seeing him after the club manager was like a breath of fresh air.

"See ya, little guy," I said, looking back at the owl. It hooted urgently at me, making me stop halfway from getting up. "What?"

It hopped towards me, right to my arm, and poked it. For some odd reason, I got the feeling it wanted me to name it.

"Um, alright..." I searched my mind for a good name. The bus driver was glancing out the door at the owl in bewilderment. "...Hedwig," I said finally. "Hedwig. You look just like him."

I reached out and patted the owl's head, to which he rubbed his head against mine (_well, I guess it's a 'he' now. Might as well give it a gender, I guess) _with delight. "What a cutie," I gushed. "Bye, Hedwig."

I left the adorable owl reluctantly and climbed onto the bus. The driver stopped me with an outstretched hand.

"Is that a barn owl?"

"Yes."

"And it just came up to you?"

"No, I summoned it. See, I have these freaky powers that I inherited from my father..."

The driver snorted in derision and waved me off.

"Alright, smart-arse. I was just curious."

I nodded, walking past him. The bus was deserted except for a filthy man asleep in the back, snoring like a lawn mower.

As I picked a seat near the front, I glanced at the bus stop bench. It was empty; no sign of Hedwig.

_Interesting, _I thought. My heart plummeted a little; I was already attached to the little guy. The bus started up again and began chugging along down the street.

"I named him Hedwig," I announced.

"What?" the bus driver called.

"I named the owl Hedwig," I said, not really sure why I was telling him this. I just felt like I should.

"You a Harry Potter fan?" the driver asked, suddenly interested.

Thus commenced the fifteen-minute long Harry Potter discussion and subsequent argument: Was Dumbledore really that great of a headmaster or was he full of terrible secrets the whole time?

I proudly won that argument (_Dumbledore really loved Harry and couldn't control his past, no one can! _I had argued) and left the bus with glorious bragging rights to tell Mark about later, if he was willing to talk to me after the terrible news I'd given him.

As I walked into our small apartment, I secretly hoped that I'd see Hedwig again soon. _Or maybe that weird guy with the blonde hair who shook my hand after the show,_ I thought with a smile. Eccentric people always caught my attention; they were always so unique and interesting. _Yeah, he seemed pretty chill, right? _

Oh, if only I knew how ironic that thought would soon be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, it means so much to me! I will update as soon as I can, and once this story really takes off, I'll update once a week. But for now the updates will be a little random, so you can check back here daily or just follow/favorite. ****Thanks! :D  
**

**Review Answers: **

_andy6rocks1_ - Thanks! And mission accomplished :)

_Fairyfinder - _Thank you, and if you find any critiques at all, feel free to let me know! Constructive criticism is always helpful! :)

_Guest - _Thanks, yes sir/ma'am! :)

_Gone Pear-Shaped - _Sorry about that, but that comedy club was a real dump. I'm glad that the descriptions were good enough to gross you out :) Actually, I have heard of that but I totally forgot when I wrote Chapter 1. But, hey, that's a really good idea; I'll add that in, thanks! I'm honored that my story is an exception :)

* * *

Early morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting slanted yellow squares onto the clean, tile floor and onto the kitchen island table. The clock on the microwave above the old stove read 7:00 AM. The house was quiet except for the dull murmur of shower water hitting floor; Mark was getting ready for work.

I sat in my pajamas at the kitchen island on my old Mac laptop, Googling nearby comedy clubs since I got kicked out of the one I was at last night. There were a few places close by but they were higher-class than the dump I'd performed at; I was worried I wouldn't be hired since I wasn't very well known, albeit for some illegal tapings of my performances that people filmed with their iPhones and Androids and had uploaded to YouTube. The comments for those videos were, in majority, positive, which is more than I could ever ask for.

I settled on a comedy club several streets over (about a ten minute bus ride, so an improvement over last night) that had some somewhat comedians perform there in the past, so I called up the place and politely asked if there would be any openings for me. To my great surprise and gratitude, they had an opening at 10:00 PM. Granted, that was quite late for a show, but it was better than nothing; I took the deal quickly. The lady I spoke to, also the club manager, was ecstatic to have a rising comedian ('_rising' used loosely, I presumed_) and said she'd seen some of said illegal tapings of me on YouTube and liked my work.

_Thank you, people who don't listen to instructions to not film me while I perform, you guys are freaking awesome. _

As I hung up the phone, Mark walked into the kitchen, clad in his usual suit and tie and fancy dress shoes. He walked past me, stopped, did a double-take, and backtracked to me at the table.

"How on Earth are you awake right now?" he asked with an amused smile, noticing my Harry Potter pajamas (they had little flying Snitches on them and all of the emblems of the Hogwarts houses) and my ruffled, brunette hair.

"I kind of got kicked out of the comedy club last night, but don't worry, I found another place," I explained quickly before Mark could protest. "It's a much better place that hopefully won't rip me off. I mean, my show's at a later time but that doesn't bug me-"

"What time?" he interjected, making his way to the coffee maker.

"Ten PM," I replied. "I should be done around ten-thirty, ten-fifty at the latest."

Mark turned on the coffee maker and stuck a mug beneath the spout. The machine hummed for a moment, and when Mark inserted a little coffee flavor cup into the top and closed the lid, the machine hummed louder until the coffee came out the spout mixed with the heated water that sat in the machine's adjacent tank. I was quiet the whole time he made his coffee, waiting for his approval.

He turned to me, and I noticed the dark purple circles under his eyes. His light brown hair was neatly spiked and his face was cleanly shaven. He looked like an exhausted, yet perfect man. _A man exhausted from being so perfect, _I thought lovingly.

"Gwen," he began. "We need to talk."

_Oh, shit. Happy feelings gone. _

"Um, sure," I said, playing stupid. "What's up?"

He sighed, taking sudden interest in his shoes.

"I think... I think you should consider a different career."

I stared at him until his eyes moved slowly up to mine. They looked troubled but determined within their shade of hazel, light brown, and flecks of yellow around the pupils. My heart was sinking and I felt the need to cover my face with my hands.

"Babe, I know I haven't been very successful," I began, my voice weak and frail. "But, I mean, this will just take time. Just give me some time..."

The coffee maker let out a _beep-beep-beep!_ Mark glanced at it, as if he'd forgotten it'd been making him a cup of his favorite coffee (chocolate mint truffle), then looked back at me. I got the feeling he'd lost his appetite completely; so did I.

"Look, Gwen," he said, his voice forcefully steady and methodical. "This comedy thing... just isn't working. I'm struggling to support both of us, and-"

"Hey, I'm working hard, too!" I interject angrily. "You think stand-up comedy is some simple thing, like mowing the lawn or watching TV? It's hard work, Mark! It's stressful, competitive, and gives me anxiety! But y'know what? I love it. Once I start talking to the crowd, I feel so... free."

Mark ran a hand through his hair, messing up his perfect spikes into more ruffled ones (_which look much more sexier to me, to be honest_). When he looked up at me, I knew there was no convincing him. His eyes were hopeless; whatever potential he'd seen in me, it was gone. After two years of my promising him that I would make it big one day, he'd finally had enough. It was like losing faith in someone who promises to make it big in Hollywood but always gets stuck with the crappy, B-movie roles.

We were Leonard and Penny from _The Big Bang Theory _before the season seven finale.

"Free doesn't pay the taxes, babe," he deadpanned. It was like a stake through my heart, but the worst part was that I knew he was right. Completely, one hundred-percent right. I suddenly wanted to raise a middle-finger to the world for making my life depend on money and not freedom and passion. "We need to be making more money, especially since we've just moved. You need to find a stable job with a stable company, and then maybe once we've reached a financial position of stability, then you can pursue comedy. You could work as an intern at my marketing company, or - _hell_ - a barista at the bubble tea shop down the street!"

He might as well have been telling me that Christmas wasn't coming this year. Or for the next several years, to be brutally honest.

"But, Mark..." I trailed off, looking for words to explain my distraughtness. "That's like, sentencing me to prison. You can't just expect me to do mundane work like that and come home happy. I get where you're coming from, but I'd rather be poor and happy than... than rich and miserable."

He stared at me long and hard, like a mother staring at her child that doesn't understand that, "_Don't touch that_," means, "_Leave the damn thing alone_." Or the way a person who only thinks logically would stare at a dreamer.

Finally, he just shook his head and picked up his mug of coffee and poured it into a portable canister.

"I have to go or I'll be late," he murmured, not looking at me. "We'll talk about this later."

I was so stunned by this situation even happening, a situation that I'd considered would happen but had always disregarded it as 'worrying too much.' Despair rolled around in my stomach like a storm at sea and I felt ready to puke.

I watched him disappear from the kitchen. The front door opened and closed. I listened to his footsteps echo down the steps to the street below; eventually, they died out.

"I just want to make other people laugh," I whispered to the lonesome air surrounding me, engulfing me with its silence. My throat started to close up and a heavy weight was on my chest. "Is that too much to ask for?"

I looked around our apartment, feeling lost and alone. So horribly alone and so small in a big city I didn't know. My dreams were falling apart and the love of my life was tearing them apart with his own hands. For good reasons, too.

I squeezed my eyes shut but that didn't keep the tears from making their way onto my cheeks. I covered my face with my hands, plummeting into an abyss of darkness and self-loathing.

I pulled my hands off my face and happened to glance at the window above the kitchen sink, and saw a large barn owl perched on the window sill outside.

"Hedwig," I breathed, a spark of hope ignited within me. I ran to the window, wrenched it open, and the owl flew in in a flurry of movement. I cowered by the sink, feeling so overwhelmed and confused; _Why did I let him in? He's a stray animal! _

Hedwig circled the room with his powerful wings before making a clumsy landing on the slick kitchen island surface. Regaining his balance on his talons, his large brown eyes probed mine. Maybe I was going crazy, but the poor thing seemed concerned.

"Hey, buddy," I said. For some reason, I was shocked to hear my voice sounded hollow and weak. "How's your morning been? Hell of a lot better than mine, I expect."

Hedwig let out a mournful _hoooot, _and clicked his talons on the table. He gazed at me intensely, as if asking, _Don't ask me questions. You're clearly the one who needs to vent right now. _

As I gazed at the strange animal, my vision began to blur again. Before I realized it, my cheeks were wet and my chest was hitching. I covered my mouth and turned from Hedwig, as though he were a person and I didn't want to burden him with my dysfunctional relationship issues.

"_Hooooot hoot," _Hedwig whined, clicking his talons anxiously. I turned to him a little; he'd crossed the length of the table and was teetering off the edge, gazing at me with such human-like concern that it took me off guard for a moment.

"I don't think I've met a human that's been as selfless as you, little guy. I almost want to call you Ghandi."

Quite adorably, Hedwig cocked his head to the side in confusion. I was about to gush over it, when I stopped.

_Holy shit... HOLY SHIT..._

"Wait... can you understand me?" I asked him, my heart thudding. Hedwig blinked, then hooted cheerfully and flapped his wings. He took off into the air suddenly and soared out the window.

I gazed after him, watching him turn into a small speck in the morning sunrise.

"See ya, little guy," I murmured, and again, I was alone. But, somehow better than I was a few minutes ago; just slightly better.

_What was I thinking? That an owl could understand English? _I shook my head and ran a hand through my disheveled hair. _That's absolutely crazy, right?_

As I would learn later, not so crazy as I had thought.

* * *

The nighttime sky was the same solid, dead black as the night before when I took a double-decker bus to the comedy club. I sat near the door, gazing out the window and repeatedly running a finger over my gold engagement ring.

_Oh God, am I nervous. _

Visions of failure kept replaying themselves in my head: tripping over jokes or my feet, forgetting jokes,accidentally saying something horribly offensive, getting booed off stage, everything I could imagine that could go wrong.

_Look at me, freaking out over one thirty-minute show. It's not like I haven't done this before. That's like a carpenter freaking out about building a chair. 'Oh God, I hope I can nail this pieces of wood together!... Okay, thank God! Now what about _these _pieces of wood...? Oh God, I hope it looks like a chair... Chairs are hard, I don't like chairs...'_

I smirked at my little joke, feeling slightly better.

_Except for this time, you've got your relationship running on this show. _

_Damn it, brain! _I thought angrily at myself. _Knock it off! _

Gray and white buildings illuminated by the streetlamps passed by slowly in the congested London traffic, which I was okay with because I got to sightsee for free. As people bustled along on the sidewalk, I saw no difference between them and the people who bustled along the streets of downtown Cincinnati. Except for the accents, of course, but that was a minor thing.

_We're all like siblings, _I thought deeply. _We're all similar yet different, too. America has filthy phone booths that no one uses and England has filthy phone booths in red boxes that they're known for. And Americans are addicted to coffee and the British are in love with tea. Otherwise, we all look and act the same..._

"Hello," a voice said. "Is this seat taken?"

I jumped at the sudden voice and looked at its source quickly. A man with flamboyant blonde hair done up in long, overflowing spikes was gazing down at me. It would've looked absolutely stupid on anyone else, but he made it work. His two eyes - one a light blue, the other a dark shade nearly navy blue - probed mine with surprising intensity. A strong wave of deja vu washed over me, but I hadn't the slightest idea why.

"Um, no, go ahead," I said.

The man nodded with a smile and sat down beside me. I scrutinized his clothing out of the corner of my eye: he wore a tight, white shirt with a white leather jacket with golden, studded shoulders. He wore light blue denim jeans and tan boat shoes with white trim.

_Wow, hipster much, _I thought, repressing a smirk. _I swear though, I _know _him from somewhere..._

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I asked, hoping not to sound too rude.

He turned to me, his face lighting up.

"Yes, I came to your show last night."

It hit me like a freight train (_or a wrecking ball, if you're into that kind of pop music_): the flamboyant, blonde-haired man with the odd clothing who shook my hand after the show. I met him right before getting kicked out of the club and meeting Hedwig.

_Damn, last night was _screwed up, I thought with surprise. _I might as well have been on drugs or something, because that would make more sense than being totally sober and not-high and talking to an owl. A freaking _owl, _man... what the hell is wrong with me?_

"Delightful show," the man was saying. "I thought my sides would split in half from how much you made me laugh. You've got quite a gift."

Warmth spread through me and the gushing wound left by Mark started to heal. I smiled genuinely at the man and had the sudden urge to hug him.

_Dude, you have no idea what kind of screwed-up morning I've had. No freaking idea. God bless you, seriously. _

"Thanks, that means a lot," I said; the side of my mouth quirked up in a probably awkward half-smile.

The man smiled back and extended a hand to me, saying, "Gwen Jackson, yes?"

"Yeah," I said, shaking his hand. His skin was smooth and warm. "And you are...?"

"Jareth," the man said, still gazing at me intensely. It's like he could see into my soul, y'know? Like he knew so much more about me than I was aware of.

_Preposterous! _my mind chirped again in that mock accent. _Absolutely preposterous!_

I blinked at him once I registered his name.

"That's quite a name you've got there, Jareth," I said, genuinely interested. Like I said, eccentric people grab my attention like freak magnets. "Normally I hear 'Jared' or even 'Jarett', but 'Jare_th_'? Seriously, that sounds like a name out of a _Star Trek _movie..." Remembering the man's earlier generous comment, I quickly added, "Sorry, that was mean. I'm a stand-up comedian, I can't help but tease people sometimes."

_Actually, his name sounds a little familiar... damn this deja vu, bugging me out of nowhere! _

To my relief, Jareth just laughed good-naturedly.

"It is perfectly fine," he assured me, gazing at me... lovingly?

_Nah, _I thought immediately, like a knee-jerk reaction. _Don't be stupid. _

"Thanks," I said. "So, where you headed to, Jareth?"

"To the comedy club a few blocks down," he said. He had such a gorgeous British accent. "I hear they have a new comedian performing down there tonight."

I blinked at him.

_Oh wow, you can practically _feel _the irony. _

"Well, it just so happens that _I'm _that new comedian," I informed him. Right as I was feeling alright, I was reminded of this morning and a wave of guilt and shame washed over me; tears threatened, so I gazed at the ground quickly. "Whoop-de-doo," I breathed. I ran a hand through my hair quickly, struggling to compose myself.

_Oh no, you don't, Gwen. Don't you dare break down in front of a stranger. That is the epitome of awkward, don't you dare! _

Somehow, whether he heard what I muttered or noticed me look away, Jareth put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked gingerly.

I let out a breath, straightened my shoulders, and looked back at him and tried to appear emotionally stable.

"Yeah, just a little nervous," I half-lied. "It's a bigger stage, y'know, and there'll be at least a hundred people there or less. I'm just having a bit of stage fright right now, that's all."

Jareth gazed at me with his discolored eyes full of overwhelming sympathy and care and said, "You will sweep the audience off their feet like a grand Queen."

I gawked at him, not knowing what to say. I almost never choke on my words; if you make me choke on my words, then you've either horribly insulted me or complimented me so wonderously that I am unable to tease you or myself. So far today, both had happened.

Before I could say, "Thank you," the bus driver was announcing over the loudspeaker, "NEXT STOP, LONDON COMEDY CLUB. NEXT STOP, LONDON COMEDY CLUB."

"Well, that appears to be our stop," Jareth mused, unfazed by what just transpired between us. He gazed down the aisle to see through the driver's window, and then looked back at me. The bus stopped as we exchanged smiles; he extended his hand again.

"Pleasure meeting you, Ms. Jackson," he said. "And all the best luck to you with your show tonight."

I took his hand, intending to shake it politely, when he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it, his multiple-shaded blue eyes never leaving mine. My breath left me and I was speechless. He smiled at me, winked, and got up from his seat and started down the aisle way.

I sat there, gathering myself. _What the hell just happened? Did a stranger just kiss my hand? What is this, a John Hughes movie?_

Nonetheless, I was absolutely flattered and I could feel my cheeks heating up as I got up out of my seat. When I gazed down the aisle way, Jareth was nowhere to be seen.

_A__w man, I better not be going crazy, _I thought, stroking my engagement ring again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you again to everyone who has read and reviewed, and favorited and followed! You are my inspiration and you make my day so much brighter! :) Feel free to leave any questions, criticisms, or thoughts in a review! **

**REVIEW ANSWERS: **

_Fairyfinder - _I was, too :) I really enjoyed writing that scene. The bus scene was also very fun to write and I'm glad you enjoyed it!

* * *

"Hey, Jackson," a voice said behind me. I jumped from where I stood and faced the person.

"Huh, what?" I said distractedly.

"You're on in five," said a guy dressed in all black and wearing a bluetooth headpiece - the stage director.

I nodded to him, feeling the sweat trickle down my face and back.

"Thanks."

_Oh my God, I'm so freaking nervous. _I could hear the comedian currently on the stage killing the crowd with jokes that, in my opinion, were a bit too sexual and crude for my liking. But they crowd seemed to like that, so maybe...

_No, Gwen, _my common sense interjected, _you need to stick with what you know. Don't start telling jokes you aren't used to. Do what you do best and knock 'em dead. _

I repeatedly wrung my clammy hands together as I stood backstage, despite the chronic draft coming from some opening somewhere. I tapped one combat-boot-clad foot to a random rhythm and recited the order of my jokes in my head over and over and over till the words lost their meaning and just became a combination of sounds and letters in my head.

I glanced to the side and saw a long mirror about six feet tall leaning against the wall, reflecting my nervous state. Before I realized it, I was scrutinizing my reflection: I saw my long, dark jeans, my red plaid flannel shirt, and my dark brown combat boots that went up mid-calf. My long brunette hair was slightly messy from the wind outside when I'd disembarked the bus twenty minutes earlier, but it still had its usual waviness that I liked. Sometimes I straightened it, but I felt like letting it go tonight.

_You'll sweep the audience off their feet like a grand queen. _

I smiled at my reflection; I could do this. _I can do this. _

When the stage director returned and motioned for me to enter the stage, I felt ready as I'd ever be. So I strode onto the stage into the glaring lights and the judging gaze of the crowd, waiting to be wowed or sent into a fit of giggles.

As I gazed over the crowd, my breath caught in my throat. There had to be at least two hundred people here, all dressed nice as though this were some kind of charity dinner. I grabbed the microphone off of the stand and put it to my lips.

_Well, here goes nothing. _

"Hey there, ladies and gents," I said, forcing cheeriness into my tone. I could feel my legs shaking and sweat beading up on my face. It was awfully hot underneath all of the lights. "And thank you again for coming tonight. I see that you've all dressed very nicely tonight... well, I feel like a slob, so thanks for nothing."

Silence. I swallowed, and kept going.

"I can only imagine what it must've been like for you all at home before you came tonight. 'Honey, does this match?'" I began imitating in a British accent. "'We're going to sit in a stuffy theater and listen to peasants make jokes, I need to look _smah-shing_!'"

The silence was deafening. I suddenly became aware of the wetness on my underarms.

"Y'know, I've been living here in London for about a week now, and I've gotta say, it's loud as hell here." A few laughs (_Thank God, _I thought with relief). "I walk outside, and a freakin' ambulance comes blaring down the street while people are yelling 'WHAT THE BLOODY '_ELL'_ at each other on the street and then red phone booths are tipping over and the fish n' chips are being sacrificed to the gods of tea and posh-ness..."

I was surprised and unnerved when no one laughed because that killed the crowd last night. _Damn, these people are too sophisticated for my humor, _I couldn't help thinking.

Suddenly, someone clapped and laughed loudly a bit too late. My eyes scanned the audience, but caught on the head of one man - a man whose head was a flamboyant, spiky blonde. My heart swelled up and determination filled my veins alongside the adrenaline and terror. I couldn't really see his face, but I knew he was smiling.

_You'll sweep the audience off their feet like a grand queen. _

Beside Jareth, I saw a man in a tight business suit. _Hmm..._

"But y'know what the best part about London is? The people. That's right, all ya'll weirdos are the best part. I mean, look at this guy in the front row. No, not you-," I said to Jareth, whose eyes had widened. I gestured to the business man beside him; even under the glaring lights, I saw Jareth visibly relax - yes, he was definitely smiling now, I could tell. "-You. What's up with this, whole suit-and-tie get up? Who you tryin'a impress? I mean, you've already out-dressed me, so congrats, man. But it is _freaking dark _in this theater, who is going to see you? Yet you got on this whole attire and you're freaking _buff, _man! Were you going for the Governator look? That's what really boggles my mind, ladies and germs..."

The whole theater was quiet still; I knew it must've taken every inch of bravery for Jareth to just clap and cheer like that and draw attention to himself in a packed theater. Now he was quiet, waiting with everyone else.

"It always shocks me," I went on, swallowing what felt like a rock down my throat. It landed heavily in my stomach and churned uncomfortably, "when people dress up so much for events where you literally _sit in darkness_. I mean, who's gonna see you? Nobody's up in the back row like, '_Whaaat, _he's wearing _that_ suit and tie? Ugh, how uncultured of him! _Egad, man!'." _

The man I'd teased a moment before, to my horror, stood up and it occurred to me how tall and ripped he was.

"This isn't comedy!" the man hollered. "All you're doing is makin' fun of us! _You're _the uncultured one!"

Sweat poured down my face and my heart hammered a mile a minute.

"Sir, please, sit down-," I stammered, but the douche bag was on a roll.

"How abou' you GET OFF THE BLOODY STAGE!" he shouted. The rest of the theater cheered with him, rallying against me as though I were Frankenstein's monster and these were the townspeople with pitchforks and torches.

My breath caught in my throat and choked me; I was cornered, the audience had turned against me, I need to get out of here, I need to say something, I need to _do _something, make them laugh, what will Mark say-

"How dare you," came a booming voice. I looked and saw Jareth standing before the man, the same height but significantly less ripped. I feared for his life as he eyed the man angrily. "This woman has worked to entertain you - _all of you - _and you boo her? _Where is your culture now?" _

The man shoved Jareth backward by the shoulders; he stumbled a bit, but his eyes never left the man. He looked almost dangerous now, and it occurred to me that a fight was inevitable.

Without a second thought, I dropped the mic, jumped down from the stage and ran towards them.

"Hey, knock it off!" I shouted, waving my hands. I inserted myself in between them right as the businessman wound his fist back to deliver a powerful blow. I turned to man to tell him to calm down when fire erupted across my face and the floor rushed to greet me. My head snapped back as I hit the ground, and sounds blurred together as the shouting increased.

Hands shook me and something wet and warm was dripping down my face and into my mouth and the smell of metallic was filling my nostrils. I opened my eyes and saw two pairs of multi-shaded blue eyes probing mine; suddenly, hands were helping me up to my feet and Jareth was saying something but I couldn't hear. My head felt like someone was hammering the inside of it and the pain flashed before my eyes in bursts of color.

"Just leave me alone," I mumbled as the shouting increased.

"Gwen, are you okay?" Jareth said, the sounds finally coming together. I heard shouts and bits of phrases like '_Finish her off!', 'Leave the poor girl alone!', 'Punch her lights out, George, punch the bitch!'. _

"I said just _leave me alone!" _I hollered at Jareth, at everyone, which only worsened the pounding in my head. I shoved Jareth away from me stumbled down the aisle way of the theater and out the double doors; I didn't stop until the smell of fresh air mixed with the metallic.

My fingers brushed under my nose gently-

I yelped at the sudden pain. Fire spread throughout my whole nose and continued up through my forehead and across my scalp to the nape of my neck, and before I knew it I was screaming.

I opened my eyes and my fingers were wet and sticky and dark. My breathing quickened and before I knew it I was sprinting down the street. My combat boots slapped the pavement as I ran and my hair whipped around my face. My head pounded horribly from the running but I knew that I had to get away.

Everything was crumbling, everything I'd worked for was dying, I was dying inside. _Help me, I'm drowning. I'm drowning in my own failure. _

I'm not sure how far I ran, but eventually I stopped to catch my breath. A hitch of pain was stitched together in my side and the blood underneath my nose was drying. The pounding in my head hadn't ceased but I was getting used to it. I glanced behind me; though it was blurry, the environment was different.

_I must've ran a few blocks, _I thought stupidly. _That's pretty far. _

The adrenaline was running out and exhaustion hit me like a freight train. I stumbled to a nearby bench and sat down, regretting never getting in shape like Mark had a few months ago.

I outwardly winced at his name. If he knew what had happened, he'd never trust me again. I couldn't go home with this. I buried my face in my hands and tried to think of happier times. I remembered my mom and her smiling face, and her telling me if I had to beat up the kids on the playground for calling me names then I was free to. _I won't have my child not sticking up herself, no I won't, _she'd said, then smiled at me and kissed my head. _Go get 'em, tiger. _Needless to say, those kids had black eyes and bloody noses the next day.

_Perhaps this is karma, _I thought hopelessly. _It's not my fault, the universe is just screwing me over. _

_You have no power over me, _the phrase came to me suddenly. Mom always used to read _The Labyrinth _to me before bed and always reminded me to say that to myself when the kids at school would pick on me. Even throughout high school she'd tell me that when I came home with tear-smeared mascara and bruises. _Be like Sarah and say that to your bullies, honey, _she'd say. _Be like Sarah. _

_I pale in comparison to Sarah right about now, _I thought miserably. _To be quite honest... _

"I... I just wish that the goblins would take me away..." I murmured aloud, feeling the sides of the pit of despair I was in. Fire was flaming and a crazy African drum-beat was ensuing inside my head. "...right now..."

Darkness closed in on me as a set of powerful hands clamped onto my shoulders. The last thing I heard was maniacal laughter, like giggling children from _The Exorcist. _Some were chanting something like, "_She said the words! She's finally ours!" _


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed and followed/favorited, it means so much to me! Ya'll are my inspiration to continue writing and you all mean so much to me :) Thank you! :D Please review and tell me what you think of this week's chapter and what you think will happen? Do you think Gwen will succeed, or naw? :) **

**REVIEW ANSWERS: **

_Fairyfinder - _They were awful, weren't they? Some people just don't know how to laugh at themselves. No matter, for there is very large adventure in store for our friend Gwen. Thank you so much, I hope you do find it thrilling! :)

* * *

As my eyes began to open, light filtered through and blinded me. I squinted and grunted and lifted a hand before my eyes. The sound around me was filtered through something fuzzy; I could hear but I couldn't hear individual phrases or words. I felt vibrations on the floor - I was on the floor - there were people here. People all around me, lots of people. Lots of vibrations, lots of fuzzy shouting.

Then the sound began to filter through clearer and I started picking up phrases.

"She's awake!" someone hissed.

"She's awake?"

A collective shushing came from the crowd; it occurred to me that this room was incredibly full. And, whoever they were, were all watching me.

I tried opening my eyes again and found the light much more forgiving. My vision was a little blurry; I saw shapes of figures before me, but couldn't discern them. They were... small. Small people... with large heads and elongated ears and long, bony fingers...

My vision began to sharpen and I gasped.

Horrid, ugly, miniature creatures stood before me, gawking. Their bloodshot, yellowed eyes probed mine with an interest I found unsettling. They wore rag-like clothing that matched their mud-colored, wrinkly skin. They were like nightmarish goblins out of a Grimm Brothers' story tale book, and they were all crowded around me as though I were a new exhibit at the museum.

One glance around told me I was in some sort of castle-like room, judging from the old-stone walls and the shimmering knights suits standing near the back wall. I glanced down and saw I was in a type of large circular divot in the stone floor; a pile of straw had been laid underneath me, like a makeshift bed.

"She's pretty," a deep, stupid voice said from the back, making me look up.

"_Shut up!" _all the goblin-like-things said in unison.

_How hard did I hit my head? _I wondered idly.

A silence passed as they continued staring, and I decided that, since I was either suffering from a concussion or going insane, I might as well take control of this weird, probably coma-induced fantasy.

"Um, hey there," I said gingerly. The goblins gasped, as though they were shocked I had the ability to speak. "Uh, where am I?"

The goblins glanced at each other in confusion and awe.

"Why, you're in the Labyrinth, of course," a voice boomed from behind me. I started and turned quickly. A man with flamboyant blonde hair, clad in a dark brown corset with a white undershirt with trim that overflowed over the corset stepped into the room. He wore grey tights with tall, black boots; the whole outfit felt medieval and authoritative. But the man's face looked familiar.

_Damn concussion dreams, gotta make everything so damn difficult to remember, _I thought grudgingly.

"Well, this dream is great and all but I'm just going to wake myself up, if you don't mind," I announced. I pinched myself on the arm, hard, squinting tight.

I opened my eyes and saw the sereny hadn't changed. The man in the medieval outfit stood by the door he'd walked in through, staring at me in bewilderment. I pinched myself again, squinting harder, but when I opened my eyes I still hadn't awoken.

"Well, I must be comatose then," I thought aloud, mumbling. "Well, this sucks. I couldn't have had Netflix in my comatose dream, nope, because that's apparently too much to ask for."

"What are you mumbling about?" the man asked, stepping towards me. His heeled boots made a _click, click, click _on the stone floor.

"Did I mumble?" I asked. "Sorry, it's a habit. I'm just trying to figure out this dream, that's all. Just... keep being dream-like, I guess. Don't mind me."

The man gazed down at me from the edge of the divot, making me feel very small. Something about his amused smile sparked deja vu in my head.

"Oh, how could I not mind you, my love?"

I stared at him in annoyed surprise.

"Excuse me?"

The man blinked at me, surprised as well. The goblins were watching our exchange like an exciting tennis match.

"You honestly think this is a dream?"

"Yeah, pretty much... because it is."

"You know, you asked me to bring you here. I was only doing as my queen commanded."

I stared at him, mouthing 'queen' in confusion when it hit me. The booing and the angry business man, the pain in my head and the red on my hand, running away, then I said...

I looked down at my hands to see they were their normal pale tone; no dried blood to be seen. I felt underneath my nose; completely clean. It occurred to me that even my head felt normal; no pounding in my temples, no swirling vision.

"No need to worry, dear Gwen," the man said regally. I scrambled to my feet, feeling my heart race faster. "I saw to your needs. You are good as new." His eyes gazed through mine lovingly; it all hit home like the inevitable dawning of the sun.

"Oh, no," I said aloud, glancing at the stone floor, then at the goblins who were looking increasingly uncomfortable. I looked back up at the man I knew to be Jareth and my heart dropped. "Oh, _shit." _

"Love, what's wrong?" Jareth asked, his forehead creasing with concern. He extended a hand to me.

"Just... stay away," I snapped, swatting his hand away. He pulled it back, gazing at me like how a scientist would gaze at an organism acting strangely under the microscope. "Just... just let me deal, okay?"

"Alright, go and _deal," _Jareth said, emphasizing the word that was tripping him up. I turned from him and stepped out of the divot and ran my hands through my hair.

_It's real, it's all real and I'm here because I said the words and oh shit I'm in such deep shit oh shit shit shit!_

I spun around to see Jareth and the goblins all gazing at me in confused awe.

"Okay, there's been a _huge _misunderstanding," I announced, struggling to retain my sanity.

The goblins glanced at Jareth with deepening concern and excitement, like spectators at a hockey game that are anticipating a smack down.

Jareth noticed his minions' glances and gazed back at me. Something flickered behind his eyes, but it was gone before I could see it.

"Misunderstanding? Please elaborate."

_Oh shit, he's pissed, _I thought. It was obvious in his voice, though he was trying to sugar coat it with his sophisticated vocabulary and gentlemanly manners. I took a steady breath, feeling a little faint. _Am I going insane? This is all real, but how can it be? I must be insane, right?_

"When I said... what I said, y'know, I didn't exactly mean it," I said slowly, trying to let him down gingerly.

"But you said the words!" one of the goblins piped up. Jareth stared at him, but didn't seem to be reproaching him; the goblin, seeing Jareth wasn't not telling him to shut the hell up, continued, "You said, 'I wish the goblins would take me away right now,' those are the words!"

"I gave you an escape, Gwen," Jareth explained, walking into the circular divot. The goblins immediately hopped out of the divot so that it was only me and Jareth; I half-expected one of the ugly things to start yelling, "_Aaaaaare you ready to ruuuuuum-buuuuuuuuuull!" _

"Okay, lemme put this in perspective," I began, holding up defensive hands. Jareth stopped advancing and folded his arms, definitely peeved. "Y'know how in _Beetlejuice_, when the people say Beetlejuice's name more than three times, it's normally by accident? Like they're just talking about the guy and then - _BAM!" _The goblins around the divot all jumped, startled and began to giggle. It was like some kind of messed up comedy show. "- The bastard shows up! Nobody _asked _him to come, but he did because the people said _the exact words._ You get my drift?"

Jareth seemed to consider what I said, pursing his lips in thought. It briefly crossed my mind that I'd sat on the bus next to this guy and had had a conversation with him. And I'd thought he was pretty chill, if not very eccentric... the thought made me inwardly smirk at the irony.

"I know not of what you reference," Jareth began finally, his regal voice echoing in the chamber. From behind him, I suddenly noticed a throne draped in brown cloth (_Oh shit, does that belong to Jareth? Oh shit, I hope not). _"But I see where _your _misunderstanding lies. You think I came because of the mere fact that those words summon me. I can refuse that if I wish, I am the Goblin King."

My blood chilled. _This really is real. And he's the king and I'm arguing with him and oh shit... _

"You see, dear Gwen," he continued, striding towards me again. I hastily stepped out of the circular divot and stumbled backwards with his every definite step forward. "I came and retrieved you because I am in love with you, and I could not stand to you in such awful grief."

I suddenly wanted to vanish into thin air or dig a hole deep in the earth and just die there. My cheeks heated up and my hands felt clammy.

_Oh, holy awkward. Holy freakin' awkward situation. _

"Um, Your Majesty, sir," I began gingerly, trying to sugar coat this as much as possible. Jareth grinned broadly at 'Your Majesty' and stopped advancing, to my relief. "You do realize I'm engaged... to another man? In the... what's it called in the book? Aboveground? Yeah, we've been engaged for a year, we're getting married next summer... so, um, I really appreciate what you're trying to do for me but I'm sorry, I'm not... I'm taken."

I expected sudden anger, shouting and throwing of objects or charging goblins, and all sorts of chaos. But, to my shock and great unease, Jareth merely laughed. It was a cold, mirthless laugh that sent shivers down my spine and chilled my bone to the marrow. I suddenly wished I wasn't stuck in a room with this strange man with strange kingship.

"Oh, I am well aware of your beau Mark Jennings. Or, should I say, _ex_-beau? No matter, we shall deal with labels later-,"

"Excuse me," I interrupted, suddenly irate. "What is this '_ex'_ business? Are you _forcing_ me into _marriage_?"

Jareth gave another short laugh of amusement.

"Oh no, my dear. I shall not force you to do anything you do not wish to do. I was merely stating the otherwise obvious aftermath if you hadn't called out to me."

A collective '_oooh'_ passed through the goblin horde as their eyes passed from Jareth to me. Fire erupted within me and my cheeks felt a different type of heat. My jaws clenched and my fists balled as I strode towards Jareth indignantly.

"_You narcissistic son of a bitch!_" I hollered.

"Watch your language, love," Jareth admonished, putting a gentle hand on my cheek. His skin was cold against my flaming cheek; I was positive my face was bright red. "Great queens never curse."

Something inside my head snapped and-

_SMACK! _the sound resounded around the chamber and all of the goblins gasped and a few screamed. The power of the smack had forced Jareth's head to the side and messed up his hair. He turned his face slowly to mine and his mismatched eyes were filled with an unbelievable fire that sent fear to the depths of my soul. Yet I stood firm, lips tight and body unmoving.

_This is where I die. He'll execute me or the goblins will eat me alive or something. Well, Gwen, it's been nice knowing ya. We had a nice run, you and I. _

Jareth took a step towards me, dissolving the distance between us. He towered over me, a full head taller, and looked down at me intimidatingly.

"You wish to see your fiance again? Then solve my labyrinth and make it out through the beginning and I shall set you free. But mark my words, dearest Gwen, if you should fail, you shall never leave. I will forgive this one transgression, but do know that I am not known for my mercy. Disrespect me once more, and I shall damn you to the Bog of Eternal Stench."

I know I should've felt happy or relieved or excited about this chance, but I only had an uncomfortable churning in my stomach. I didn't want to stay but the idea of leaving and facing whatever the hell was out there in that labyrinth... I could only imagine what that Bog thing was like, especially if it was like what it was in the book that my mom had always read to me.

"I accept," I said, despite my misgivings. "And I, Gwen Jackson, will sincerely pown your royal ass in front of your goblin entourage. Do take note of that, dearest Jareth."

Jareth scowled but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. He waved his hand regally, calling, "Hogsnout!"

A short, fat goblin waddled up to him hurriedly, fear in his bloodshot eyes.

"Uh, I'm Hogsnout, sir," he squeaked in a voice so high pitch it didn't match his appearance.

"Lead Ms. Jackson to the exterior of the Goblin City but see to it that she receives no help from there on," Jareth ordered, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Aw, gee, thanks for the escort," I said sarcastically. "Because I honestly can't take care of myself."

"It is not you I am worried about," Jareth replied in an undertone before taking a few steps back. It occurred to me that that was only meant for me; I glanced at the goblins and wondered how many of them were actually dangerous.

The squat little goblin named Weedsnout waddled up to me and gestured with a short, fat arm to the chamber door at the far end of the room.

"After you, Ms. Jackson," he squeaked. I took a glance backwards; Jareth had assumed his seat on his throne. We exchanged a confusing glance; it was contemptuous, angry, yet fearful and hopeful. He wished for my failure and I wished my for victory, but who was the real villain here?

_I feel like such an asshole, _I thought as Weedsnout led me out the door and down a steep, stone staircase. _Jareth cured my headache and wiped up my blood and everything, but he's still been quite the asshole, too. If I fail, we'll be assholes united. The United Association of Assholery. Association even has 'ass' in it... I feel like the irony of the world is out to get me. _


	5. Chapter 5

**THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH to all those who have continued to read and follow/favorite this story! I apologize for not updating last weekend, I was extremely busy with schoolwork and extracurricular activities, but I made sure that I updated this weekend! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and please let me know if I can improve upon the Labyrinth experience :) **

_REVIEW ANSWERS: _

**NotMyLullaby: **No problem! I'm glad you're enjoying this! :)

**UPDATE: September 23 at 4:06 PM: Minor grammatical errors, and I changed Gwen's choice from 'red shield' to 'blue shield'... you'll see why if you read on :)**

* * *

Weedsnout led through a winding hallway within the castle to a pair of tall, menacing wooden doors. As we approached, a pair of goblins in rackety, tarnished knight-like armor pulled open the doors with long ropes, and the Underground daylight filtered in with dazzling, blinding light; I raised a hand to shade my eyes until they adjusted. Weedsnout had already waddled outside so I jogged to catch up with him.

The sky was an odd yellowish-orange tinge without a single cloud and surrounding me looked like some sort of stone village. I remembered from my childhood that this was what the book had called the Goblin City. Weedsnout continued waddling confidently forward past a fountain that had carved stone goblins all around it, some of them peeing filthy water into the fountain. I grimaced at the fountain as we passed it; it seemed like something a fantasy writer on crack would think up.

Eyes peeped out from windows in the houses as we passed through the streets, and some heads poked out from ajar doors. Some whispered anxiously to each other and some with enthusiastic excitement; I picked up a few phrases, like, "_That's _her_!" _and "_She's mad, going into the Labyrinth like that! Positively mad!" _and, confusingly, "_She looks like the last girl that was here. What was her name again...?" _

_So clearly I'm not the Goblin King's first love interest, _I realized. _Jeez, what a player. _

The further we walked, the less stone houses there were until we came to a large, stone gate (_Damn, everything here is made of stone... talk about lack of creativity_) and the gate pulled apart at our approach. Before me lay a vast distance of...

"Is that a landfill?" I asked aloud incredulously.

"Yes, Ms. Jackson," Weedsnout squeaked. "Full of all of the trash that all little boys and girls have but do not need. Perhaps you will find some treasures there." He had a mischievous glint in his eyes and I knew immediately not to trust it.

"I'm good, thanks," I said, beginning to wander forwards. "I don't have much, anyways. So, do I just go this way, or...?"

A loud _thud _answered me. I whipped around to see the gate had closed on me.

I was alone.

I glanced around me, to my right, in the distance, was the landfill. To my left was a stone path that led into what looked like a stone maze entrance from here.

"There's no place like home," I murmured, clicked my heeled boots twice for good luck, then strode onward.

I came to the maze entrance, two large stone walls with about fifteen feet in between them. I glanced behind me at the Goblin City and the landfill adjacent, and then continued forward into the Labyrinth.

The dirt pathway immediately changed to stone tile and the walls on either side rose to the heavens; I craned my neck to see their top and a sharp pain went down my spine. I continued along, my feet steady in my black boots. The humid, warm weather was making me sweat in my dark clothing as I continued on. Every once and a while I would come to a fork in which I'd pull a quarter out of my pocket and flip it; heads was right turn and tails was left turn. I could only hope that using random probability that I would find my way out of here.

According to the book that I read as a child, this Labyrinth was supposed to be the longest maze in all existence and the only person that had conquered it was the book's heroine, Sarah Williams.

So like Sarah and Theseus of Athens navigating King Minos' labyrinth to find the minotaur, I ventured onward through various forks in the road and right and left turns. I had no way of knowing if I was running in circles because everything looked the same, and I had nothing to leave behind me as a bread-crumb trail.

Paranoia laced itself in the clamminess of my hands and the sweat beads sliding down my face. I began to wonder if maybe I _was _wandering around aimlessly in circles. What felt like an another hour passed and I came to yet another fork in the road that looked exactly like the last.

I stopped walking, bent over, and placed my hands on my knees and tried to get a grip. _Like a hamster on a wheel, _I thought. _I think I'm actually going somewhere but in reality I'm just running in one big circle. _

_Don't give up hope! _my mind contradicted. _This is just another comedy show. The audience is waiting for the big laugh - the finale! You just gotta navigate through their type of humor and find the tickle spot that really gets 'em laughing. C'mon, do it for Mark!_

I straightened up, smoothed back my hair, and strode onward to the left without flipping the quarter. The left just felt right, for some reason.

As I walked down the long maze hall, I came to a dead end. At the end of it stood two doors and in front of them were two creatures that could pass as weirder than the goblins, if you can believe that. As I walked closer (they appeared to be arguing with each other over some trivial thing), I saw that they somewhat resembled a dog and a ferret mixed into one hybrid animal-thing, with long hairy whiskers like an old man and yellowish eyes that didn't blink. They held large medieval shields over their torsos, and beneath that another head sprouted that hung upside down but functioned just as the one above it did and almost independent from the head facing upright.

"Um, hello?" I called out nervously.

The two dog-ferret-oldman creatures' heads whipped to meet my gaze and they shrieked in unison.

"Another girl!" the top head with the blue shield shrieked. "Here for another riddle!"

"Aye, it is another young girl!" the bottom head agreed loudly.

"Yeah, hey there," I said, giving a short wave and then clasping my hands together. "So, can either of you lead me in the right direction here? I'm kind of trying to win a bet with a royal asshole, so if you could help me out, that'd be great."

The top head with the red shield piped up, "Oh, but woe to you, for one of us always tells the truth and the other always lies!" The four heads all nodded in unison, gazing at me intensely.

Irritation sparked in my temples, but I tried to keep my voice level.

"Seriously? You both can't just be decent... whatever you are, and just tell the truth?"

The four heads all turned and looked at the one immediately next to them in bewilderment. They looked back at me and all proclaimed, "Why, no, of course! That's not how it works."

"Well, I say screw the system!" I exclaimed, annoyance heating my cheeks. "Do what you want! You're independent creature-things, do what the hell you wanna do! I'm from America, okay, and in America you can say whatever the hell you want and people can't do shit - unless you do something illegal like commit murder, then that's not cool. But you get the point, right?"

Four sets of eyes blinked at me in confusion.

"The Goblin King rules us all," the bottom head of the red shield declared. "And we obey him! And he says that are to do as we are commanded, and we here are commanded to have one tell the truth and the other to always lie!"

"That's stupid," I countered. "What does that achieve? I swear, this is Alice in Wonderland all over again. Nothing freakin' makes sense! It you'd just think for yourselves, this would all be a lot easier." Again, the creature things just blinked at me, baffled.

"One of us always lies and the other always tells the truth!" the top head with the blue shield proclaimed once more; I rolled my eyes with exhaustion. "But let me tell you, this is the right door to enter!"

"No, _this _one is!" the top head with the red shield hollered shrilly. "Trust me, miss, this door will get you straight to the Goblin City-!"

"Aw hell no, I just left that place!" I protested, taking a step towards the blue shield.

"_Wait, wait, wait!" _both heads with the red shield shrieked desperately. I stopped in my steps, waiting. "You do not wish to enter the Goblin City?"

"Why in the hell would I want to go there?"

All four heads glanced at each other in utter shock and perplexion.

"So, you are not searching for a stolen child?" the bottom head with the red shield asked slowly.

"Nah. See, in my case, _I'm _the stolen one. I said... stupid stuff, and Jareth got the wrong idea, long story short."

All four heads went, "_Ohhhh," _and gazed at me again with almost smug looks that made me shift my boots uneasily.

"So, you must be Gwen Jackson," the top head with the red shield said conversationally.

Now it was my turn to be baffled.

"How do you know my name?" I asked lamely, my skin prickling with worry.

"Oh, Jareth talked about you all the time," the bottom head with the blue shield cooed. "Whenever we went to visit the Goblin City for a feast or other, it was 'Gwen' this and 'Gwen' that. He loves your shows, he sures does. You're a musician or other, right?"

"Comedian," I corrected, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Um, how long has Jareth been seeing my shows?"

The heads paused, considering, then looked down behind the shields to converse with their halves as the heads with the red shields watched. The blue-shield heads whispered incoherently, then resurfaced above the shields.

"About a year in Aboveground time, I'd say," the bottom head said. "Or more, perhaps. It's so hard to tell sometimes."

"The blue shield," I said immediately, feeling a spark of genius. "I pick the blue shield. He told the truth - I've only been performing for two years, and people only starting to get to know me until a little over eight months. That's when Jareth must've heard about me."

Both heads on top glanced at each other, shrugged, and the door behind the blue shield creaked open, tearing numerous spiderwebs apart.

Grinning triumphantly, I strode forward.

"Take that, you sons-a-bi_-AAAHHHH!" _I shrieked as the floor beneath me vanished and I tumbled down into darkness.

"HAVE A NICE FALL!" a head shouted as I fell... something gripped my arms, legs, torso, hair, and feet. It felt like many leathery... _hands?!_

Panic swept through me and I began to writhe around, screaming.

"Calm down, we're here to help," a high-pitch voice cooed from somewhere.

My blood froze in my veins and fear took over me like being drenched in a freezing shower. _There's definitely someone- some_thing_- in here with me. And it can talk. _

"Yeah, we're here to help!" a deep voice agreed, appearing to emanate from multiple different directions. "We're helping hands!"

My breathing quickened rapidly and I couldn't think straight. The hole was dark and dank and every breath I took was full of something dead rotting and mold.

_I picked the wrong door, how could I have picked the wrong door, how could I have been so stupid, how could I have picked the wrong door, the silent one is always the truthful one, why didn't I see it-! _

"_Please, just let me go!" _I shrieked in agonizing panic. It wasn't until I'd said it that I realized what would happen next.

"Going _dooowwwnnn!" _the voices exclaimed with enthusiasm and excitement; the leathery hands loosened their grip and let go, and I plummeted into the darkness below.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you again to everyone viewing this story, it means the world to me! I apologize for updating later, I've been incredibly busy and have just now have gotten time to update this story. Review and let me know what you think! :D**

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Gravity pulled at my core and wind whipped through my hair as I plummeted down through the darkness. I tried to grab at the sides of the tunnel but I only succeeded in bringing down chunks of dirt and roots with me.

Suddenly, I hit solid ground and tumbled onto my face into the dirt, as someone screamed. I lay there for a moment, feeling a blazing fire in my right knee. Painfully I pushed myself to my knees and flipped my hair back, bringing up a small dust cloud around my face.

"Son of a bitch..." I muttered, sitting down on the ground and stretching my legs out. The fire hadn't faded in my knee and it blazed with a fury. I began to massage it as I gazed around.

My heart dropped when I realized where I was. I was in a cave, but much smaller. The ceiling had to be only eight feet tall and the cave room itself was only several yards in length. The only light source came from a small oil lamp that sat upon the dusty floor, casting a yellow glow on the cavern walls and making grotesque shadows from jutting pieces of rock on the walls and ceiling.

"Oh, _shit_," I murmured, my voice small and weak. I looked around from where I came, and saw a narrow hole in the ceiling. I started to get up - "_Shit!" _- and fell back down, wincing and groaning in pain. An inferno was erupting in my knee and I couldn't think straight.

Even in the midst of my pain, my mind came up with a joke: _Well, maybe you can think gay. _

_Oh, I can do better than that, _I thought, and felt the corners of my mouth tug into a smile. _Okay, that's a little funny. Just a little bit, though. _

"Hey!" a voice said suddenly. I froze in my crumpled state on the ground, fear chilling my bones to the marrow. The lamp cast a terrifying shadow on the wall of a deformed giant with giant hands and long legs. "Will you quit makin' all that ruckus?"

"Who's there?" I called, and was shocked and ashamed to hear my voice sound so fragile and shaken up. As if talking had taken up the last of my energy, I felt the verge of tears begin to break through my wall of strength. I took a breath, and called, "Please, come out. I'm injured, I need help."

There was unintelligible grumbling and shuffling of footsteps from behind me. I managed to turn myself around to see...

Another goblin; I suppressed a loud groan of irritation. He was certainly smaller and less intimidating than his shadow; his arms and legs were stubby and fat, and his head seemed a bit too large for short, wide body. He was dressed in a filthy, dirt-caked white shirt and wrinkled brown pants and small brown shoes. His small, blue eyes scrutinized me with obvious judgment. His face was ravaged with wrinkles and warts, and his white, furry eyebrows matched his wispy white hair that was partially covered by a red cap.

"Let me guess," he began in a voice that seemed caught halfway through a boy going through puberty and a full grown man. "You got sick of your baby brother or sister, wished the goblins would take him away, and then they did. Now you feel _so_ guilty and you're on your way to the Goblin City right now to get him or her back!"

I stared at the strange creature aghast.

"Why does everyone think that?" I exclaimed, massaging my knee again. It didn't make the pain any worse but I hoped that massaging the tendons would prevent it from swelling.

The goblin blinked at me, all smugness gone.

"Then why are you here?" he asked, perplexed.

I sighed, still feeling emotionally shaken up. This was all one big nightmare and it was never ending... and it had probably only been a few hours.

"Okay, how about I make you a deal," I began, relieved to hear my voice gain an authoritative tone. "You help me fix up this knee, and I'll tell you my story and we'll both get the hell outta here. Deal?"

The goblin let out a 'Ahh!' of petty disgust and flicked a dismissive, chubby hand in my direction.

"There is no way out!" he proclaimed miserably. "This is the oubliette! People are sent here to be forgotten about! It's enchanted to have no exit!"

I stared at the goblin, feeling myself die inside. I put my face in my hands and let it out; the momentary silence was broken by my sobbing.

"I just want to go home," I cried. "I didn't ask for this!... Okay, technically I did, but not _this!" _Hot tears streaked my cheeks and a small headache began to pound my temples.

A small, pudgy hand touched my shoulder gently.

"Don't cry," the goblin said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "It's not too bad down here. There's no one around to tell you to do this and do that. It's quiet, it's nice. You'll learn to like it."

I gazed up into his ugly face that was trying so hard to be optimistic.

"I'm engaged," I whispered, my vision blurring from the tears. The goblin's face fell and true pity took its place. I put my face back into my faces and let the tears keep falling. I just couldn't hold it in anymore.

Out of the blue, I felt a tug on my shirt and heard the tearing of fabric. I looked at the goblin, who was knelt beside me, holding a large piece of my black shirt. I glanced down and saw a large portion of my stomach showing.

"Sorry about that," he said before I could protest. "My shirt's far too dirty to wrap around that knee. I hope you don't mind too much." He reached into a little knapsack that hug around his waist and pulled out two thick, short sticks. "Hold these," he said, holding against my knee. I took them and held them as he took my shirt fabric wrapped it under the knee and tied it at the top. "There. Now, let that rest for a bit. Keep holding the knee, should keep it from swellin' too much."

I sniffled and nodded.

"Thank you." I stuck out my free hand to him. "Gwen Jackson."

The goblin glanced at my hand confusedly and took it by the fingertips.

"Hoggle," he said, releasing my fingers. "Of course, I'm probably the only one who remembers my name. Been down here for so long."

"What kind of asshole what stick a nice guy like you down here?" I asked, bewildered. And yeah, I was sugar-coating that part a bit, but hey, I wanted to get on his good side.

"Jareth," Hoggle said, plumping down onto the floor across from me. "I helped a girl, a bit younger than you I suppose, get to the Goblin City to retrieve her baby brother. I was actin' against Jareth's orders, of course, since she asked him to take the child away. And, when she escaped, Jareth brought all hell down on me and locked me down here. I suppose it's better than the Bog of Eternal Stench, but it sure does get lonely."

I let out a long whistle.

"Damn," I muttered.

Hoggle considered me for a moment, scrutinizing again but with less negative judgment, I hoped.

"You do seem quite older than Sarah was. You're not fifteen, I take it?"

My jaw dropped and I gawked at Hoggle.

"Sarah was _fifteen?_ Is she that same girl that everyone keeps comparing me to?"

Hoggle nodded.

"The very one. Jareth was head-over-heels for her, but did a good job of scarin' her off. Narcissistic jerk, didn't surprise me. But Sarah was a sweet girl... she was my friend."

I glanced down at my bound knee, feeling like I didn't know Hoggle well enough to be hearing this. I felt like I was eavesdropping on someone giving a private eulogy to a dead loved one.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "But, can I ask why someone like Jareth - who's gotta be at least like, what, thirty something? - have the hots for a fifteen year old girl? I don't know about you, but where I come from, that's frowned upon. Like seriously, people get locked up for that."

"Oh, Jareth's immortal," Hoggle said a matter-of-factly. "But he likes to think he's young at heart. So, arguing age is like trying to discuss politics with a... well, a goblin, I suppose."

I nodded, pretending like that was supposed to be normal and sensical.

"Immortal. Right, totally not screwed up. So, what kind of advice could you give me if I told you that I... have you ever seen the movie _Beetlejuice_?"

Hoggle blinked at me.

"Okay, so in _Beetlejuice_ there's this goth girl named Lydia and, long story short, she's nearly forced to marry Beetlejuice - this pervy yet totally awesome dead ex exorcist - because if she does marry him then he's free from the miniature model of the town he lives in - I know you're confused, just bear with me here - and so she and the other ghostly couple have to say Beetlejuice's name three times so he's summoned back to where he came from, which is also the same thing that summoned him there in the first place."

Hoggle just stared at me, mouth hanging open in complete bewilderment.

"Tough crowd," I muttered, then continued, "what I'm getting at is that _I _am Lydia. I said Beetlejuice's name three times by accident, and now I have to say it three more times to get the hell away from him, or else I'm gonna have to marry him. Right now, I'm trying to say his name three times by getting out of this damn Labyrinth. You get what I mean?"

Hoggle considered for a moment, squinting his eyes in a way that would be adorable if he weren't so ugly.

"I think so," he said slowly in his weird high-low voice. "So, you don't like Jareth, and he got mad and kept you here?"

"No, not like that," I explained. "It's more like, I got to know him a bit through comedy shows that I do - he came to two of them, that I know of - and, I suppose he must've been my number one fan because he was pretty enthusiastic about my work. So, when I said the _words, _he brought me here and thought I'd just jump into his arms wedding-style and we'd ride a stallion off into the sunset." I sighed and massaged my knee the other direction. "It's all complicated and crap, because I also happen to be engaged, as you know, but Jareth thinks that that wouldn't have lasted if he hadn't kidnapped me."

Hoggle nodded, toying with a loose strand on his dirtied shirt.

"Yes, very confusing indeed," he agreed. "A lot of drama, if you ask me. That's why I like being a goblin. Hardly any drama, just doin' our assigned jobs and going to seasonal feasts at the castle... or, at least, that's what I used to do. But it's nice down here, very quiet, a good place to think."

"About what?" I asked.

Hoggle sighed.

"About life before Sarah showed up," he confessed, looking sheepish. "And just Sarah herself. She was my friend... haven't seen her since I visited her right after she escaped. I guess she was busy."

"How long ago was she down here?" I asked, interested. "Is the time different down here?"

"I've not the slightest," Hoggle admitted, gazing around the oubliette forlornly. "I have no idea about what time it is now, whether it's sunrise or sunset or daylight or twilight or morning..."

"Well, when I crash landed in here, it was about the afternoon," I said.

"What is the date?" Hoggle asked suddenly. "In the Aboveground."

I thought for a second, then said, "June twenty-first, two-thousand fourteen."

Hoggle gawked at me, going a slightly paler shade in the face.

"Two-thousand... fourteen..." he trailed off in crestfallen awe. "...twenty eight years..."

"Twenty eight years? Jeez, Sarah's forty-three now," I said in surprise. "She's probably somewhere in a career by now, probably successful since she conquered this hellhole of a maze. Or she might be married with kids..." it was my turn to trail off, but I was thinking about something else. About a certain man of goblin royalty who'd taken a seat next to me on the bus and boosted my morale with no hope of a reward for doing so. A certain man who'd had his heart broken twenty eight years earlier by a girl who deserved better and had her whole life in front of her.

"Y'know what," Hoggle said, breaking the silence that had fallen upon us. "Let's try that hole in the ceiling. Maybe if I get up on your shoulders, I can make my way up and throw a rope down for you." His eyes searched mine hopefully; the desperation mixed with the sweat beads embedded in his multiple wrinkles.

I smiled and nodded.

"Alright, Hoggle, let's do this." I started to shift myself into position to get up when hot fire cascaded down my leg from my knee. "Hey, can you help me out here?... Hoggle?" I glanced up at him and saw him gawking at me. "What?"

He shook his head, shaking it off.

"Nothing, it's just..." he waddled over and began helping me up. "...nobody ever remembers my name."

I got to my feet steadily with bearable pain and laid a hand on Hoggle's shoulder, which reached my waist.

"I know what it feels like to feel ignored. People should at least get your name right. You have no idea how many people have spelled my name G-U-E-N or G-W-I-N. It's ridiculous. At least your name is easy to spell. Now," I said, as we positioned ourselves beneath the hole in the ceiling, "y'know what one sheep said to the other?"

Hoggle squinted his eyes at me in confusion.

"No, what?"

"Let's get the flock outta here."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone, I have come out of hibernation! Not really, I was just insanely busy with work. No fear, I have returned to resume this story! HUMONGOUS thank you's to everyone who has continued reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing this story in my absence! Ya'll are amazing, so totally amazing! :D**

****The lyrics are from Town Meeting Song by Danny Elfman in the _Nightmare Before Christmas _soundtrack, and I do not own them in any way, shape, or form. Nor do I own the characters of Jim Henson's _Labyrinth._**

**_UPDATE: Friday, 11:00PM (THIS IS HALLOWEEN, THIS IS HALLOWEEN!): Just some grammar mistakes that I needed to correct :)_**

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**_musicluver246:_**Mission accomplished! Let me know what you think in a review! :D

* * *

"I can touch the top!" Hoggle's voice echoed from the top of the hole in the ceiling. It was so dark, I couldn't even see him up there.

Squinting, I shouted as I sat on the floor of the oubliette, "Okay, when you get up there, find a rope and then throw it down for me!"

"Oh, no problem!" Hoggle hollered. His tone had a forced cheeriness, and a horrible realization hit me: _What if he leaves me down here, injured? I would have to wait until my knee healed and God knows how long that would take, and then to climb out? _

Hoggle continued to grunt and occasionally chastise the hands in the dirt walls for grabbing him too hard or in inappropriate places ("_Oi, watch it_! Haven't ya ever heard of personal space?! Good for nothin' bastards..."). I gazed up into the large, cavernous hole in anticipation and mild annoyance.

"Hey, do you think you could hurry a bit?" I called up to him.

"I'm doin' the best I can!" Hoggle shouted back angrily.

"Well, do better!" I countered, feeling a larger flare of irritation. Then added, "I mean, take your time... Y'know, I've only got a possibly broken knee, so take your sweet time." I gazed down at my knee, now swollen to the size of a softball and a bluish-purple color. It ached and burned like a hundred bee stings and the only way to keep myself from crying was to try to ignore it by watching Hoggle struggle to the top of the oubliette's exit.

"Hello, Gwen," a voice breathed in my ear. My heart seized up and I screamed, turning over to the side and successfully rolling over my bad knee which made me scream again. Jareth had been crouching beside me for God knows how long and was now gazing at me in shock at my outburst. At my screams, Hoggle let out a shout and a ruckus came from the hole he was climbing in until he hit the oubliette floor with a thud that made me wince.

"_Dammit, Jareth!" _I shrieked furiously as my knee blazed with the entirety of the fire from Dante's _Inferno. _

"_Dammit, Jareth!" _Hoggle echoed, hoisting himself up and brushing himself off, his wrinkled and warty face scrunched up into an ugly snarl. Then, realizing what he had just said and to whom he had said it to, his face immediately smoothened into one of submissive sheepishness and his eyes went wide in fear. "I-I mean, what a pleasure for you to visit, Goblin King," he stammered, wringing his white shirt in his big fists.

I rolled my eyes at Hoggle's cowardice. I wasn't afraid of Jareth, the Big Bad Asshole. I would have been snarling and sending a string of curses his way if I wasn't gritting my teeth to hold back the burst of sobs that was stuck like a lump in my throat.

"You're hurt, love," Jareth said to me, ignoring Hoggle (who visibly relaxed). He stood up, and towering over both Hoggle and me, and took a few steps towards me. I held my ground but wished for the space between us again. "I was going to observe you bravely power through it, but your knee is clearly fractured and will mend itself in the wrong way if you don't let me fix it."

"Oh, _hell no," _I snarled at him, in which a mini-sob found its way into my tone, making my pain obvious. Jareth's face seemed to pale; it was worse than he had thought, I could tell.

"Gwen, please-"

"I said _no,_" I repeated, despite how badly I wanted to make the inferno in my knee go away. "You can't possibly expect me to accept your medicinal help while keeping me locked in this damn labyrinth?

"_Gwen-" _

"I said _hell-to-the-no." _

"Ms. Jackson," Hoggle interjected. Jareth and I both turned to him with angry snarls, to which he flinched but regained his composure. Nervously, began, "Perhaps it would be wise to get your knee healed, in case you have some _climbing to do_ sometime, y'know." He used way too much emphasis; I wanted to slap him and facepalm myself.

"Why such secrecy, Hogwart?" Jareth asked him, clearly amused at the way Hoggle flinched when Jareth said his name. "I know exactly what you two were doing. You were doomed to fail."

"Hey, first of all, _you royal ass," _I snapped, making Jareth's head snap to me. "His name is _Hoggle. _H-O-G-G-L-E, okay? Do we need to conduct a freakin' spelling bee for you to get this?"

"You know, your stinging sarcasm truly draws from your beauty-,"

"_Hey," _I interrupted. "Did I say I was done talking? Oh, that's right, I didn't. So, second of all, you told me to solve this labyrinth. Well, the way I'm solving it right now is getting out of this damn oubliette, and if you have a problem with that, you speak with my attorney when I get back to reality. Any questions, concerns, comments, grievances, or compliances?"

Jareth stared at me in surprise, then something passed across his eyes; before I could really see it, it was gone and Jareth was kneeling beside me.

"Just shut up and bite this handkerchief," he deadpanned, pulling out a white handkerchief from the brown vest he was wearing over a puffy, white sleeved shirt, complete with grey leggings and brown boots. He was so close to me that his extravagant blonde hair bangs could nearly brush my forehead. Begrudgingly, I took the handkerchief from his open hand and stuffed it in my mouth. "Good girl," he said, making me glower at him. "Alright, bite down as hard as you can."

Jareth poised his hands above my knee, pausing. Hoggle stayed where he was, watching nervously. Then Jareth placed his hands on my knee, which was painful enough. And then the magic began to do its stuff.

The agony that penetrated my knee soared up through my spine and into the temples in my head. I was engulfed in a fire so awful that I felt my head splitting open across my forehead and I screamed so hard and bit the handkerchief with such ferocity that blackness descended upon me and I felt no more.

* * *

"_Listen everyone, there were objects so peculiar._

_They were not to be believed._

_All around, things to tantalize my brain._

_It's a world unlike anything I've ever seen,_

_And as hard as I try, I can't seem to describe_

_Like a most improbable dream._

_But you must believe when I tell you this,_

_It's as real as my skull and it does exist._

_Here, let me show you..." _

_The voice from my favorite movie echoed from all around. I found myself standing in a field where the sun was shining and glittering off of the dewy grass that swayed and shimmied in the breeze. I gazed down at myself and saw a white sundress hugging my figure and my bare feet smudged with warm dirt from the ground. My hair was down and wind was toying with it, tossing it about my face. _

_Brushing it aside, I saw a figure in the distance walking towards me. I tried calling out to the figure, but no noise came from my throat. Then, it dawned on me almost naturally: it was Mark. His hair wasn't gelled and spiky but flatter and natural, getting ruffled in the breeze. He was striding towards me, clad in a white suit and a bright smile... _

_Wait. He wasn't smiling now, he was frowning. Now a snarling sneer that sent shivers up my spine. Like a spreading ink stain, his suit was turning from white to black, spreading from his chest to the rest of his body, stretching up to his neck and down to his ankles. _

_Suddenly was in front of me. Brushing the hair out of my face, I realized the breeze had died abruptly. The sun had hidden behind the clouds and a great shadow was cast upon the fields. Mark stared at me indifferently, the corners of his mouth tugged down in distaste. Then, as quickly as he had been merely standing in front of me, his hand thrusting something through my chest. He then stepped back, grinning sadistically. Slowly and dreamlike, I glanced down and saw red blossoming from my chest where a wooden handle stuck out from. _

"_This is all your fault!" Mark was shouting. I looked up at him and he was sobbing, his face twisted into an ugly scowl. "You made me do this!" _

_I felt myself falling backwards into someone's embrace, their white gloved hands catching me beneath my arms. I felt hair rub against my cheek and someone whispering in my ear: _

"_And as hard as I try, I can't seem to describe,_

_Like a most improbable dream._

_But you must believe when I tell you this,_

_It's as real as my skull and it does exist._

_Here, my Queen, let me show you..."_

* * *

I woke with a start, heaving and sitting up quickly. Sunlight hit my eyes like arrows and I squinted and moaned. _Wait, sunlight? _I opened my eyes a bit more, and saw a large stone wall in front of me with vines scaling its height.

Bewilderment smacked me upside the head and I glanced around and saw Hoggle, waddling back and forth along in deep thought. _We got out? _

"Hoggle?" I asked weakly. He whirled around to me, his face lighting up. "What'd I miss?"

He waddled over to me and, to my shock, embraced me enthusiastically. "You're alive!" he exclaimed in delight. "I could'a sworn you were dead, you weren't movin' and what Jareth did to your knee-!"

"My knee?" I interjected, quickly gazing down at my knee. It was good as new, normal-sized and pale like the rest of me. "Oh, my God," I murmured in admiration. "That's... that's amazing. It doesn't hurt at all anymore. Do you see this, Hoggle? Damn, if Jareth was my doctor, I wouldn't have to pay medical bills and medical care anymore!"

To my disappointment, Hoggle just shook his head.

"That's great and all, Ms. Jackson, but this is bad for you. I mean, Jareth came down to the oubliette and healed your knee. As far as I know, he's as cold-hearted as they come..."

"Spit it out, Hoggle."

Hoggle sighed, then said plainly, "Let's just say, don't expect to be marrying your fiance anytime soon with Jareth so head-over-heels for you."

I shook my head, shaking away the thoughts of doubt and trembling fear. "No, no, we have a deal. If I get out of here, then I marry Mark. If I don't, then I stay. That's that, black and white, no shades of grey here. Now, let's focus on getting the hell out of here, yeah?"

Hoggle stared at me in confusion as I got up from the ground where I had been lying.

"What do you mean?"

I hesitated, then said, "Well... you're coming with me, aren't you?"

"I did what I meant to do," Hoggle said. "I got out, and so did you. Your knee was healed, granted by Jareth, but healed all the same. He magicked us out of that oubliette so you could continue your journey, so let's just say that I got us out. So, this is where we part. Goodbye, Gwen."

"Hey, you can't leave me!" I protested as he turned to go.

He turned back, folding his arms and watching me in amusement. "And why not?"

I searched for words, opened and closed my mouth, but I had nothing.

"Then good day!" Hoggle snapped. He turned and waddled away down another corridor in the labyrinth.

"Hoggle!" I shouted. Then, more desperately, "_Hoggle!" _

Silence. Some kind of animal screamed in the distance, making me flinch and setting my heart hammering.

"Fine!" I hollered at the walls, trying to sound confident. "I'll be fine on my own! I don't need you, you warty lump of a coward!" I turned to go down the opposite corridor, before turning back around and shouting, "I HOPE YOU FALL INTO THE BOG OF ETERNAL STENCH!"

With that, I stormed off down the possibly right or wrong corridor. Who knew, because I certainly didn't... but Hoggle would've.

**It would sooo make my day if you all would let me know of the latest installment in a wonderful review! Those make my day, no kidding guys, they're a gift to receive :) Thanks a bunch, lovelies! 3 **

**~Writer by Moonlight**


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